


Sweet Remedy

by kayura_sanada



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poisoning, Pre-Slash, canon AU, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin always tests Arthur's food, just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Remedy

Merlin raced into the kitchens, already nearly a half hour late for Arthur's breakfast and still running with his boots untied. He moved to grab the tray full of food, only to have the cook harrumph and glare at his boots. He sighed and bent to tie them up, nearly knotting his finger in one of them before completing the task and swooping up the meal. The cook rolled her eyes and waggled her spoon at him, warning him to be on time tomorrow. He just thanked her and left.

Really, was it really any wonder he was always late? He went everywhere with Arthur and did his chores besides. He'd even stayed up with Arthur last night helping the man with his speech (which basically just meant writing it himself). Arthur had demanded certain points be made in the speech, and Merlin had busied himself making Arthur's pomposity sound more regal than authoritative. Sometimes, during those late hours, that was a lot of work. The only good thing about it was teasing Arthur out of his bad mood, and the two of them throwing pillows and quills at each other.

He practically ran through the castle, everyone instinctively getting out of his way. Several people laughed and yelled greetings to him as he passed. He waved to a few and called back to those he couldn't. Gwaine took one look at him and laughed. Merlin used his magic to help balance the tray while he sent the man a one-fingered salute in return.

Merlin nearly opened the door and took the food inside before his brain finally clicked on. Arthur had gotten grapes, crackers and cheese, a slice of ham, and one of those little jam-filled delicacies. Merlin took a careful bite of each, making sure to keep the food looking untouched otherwise, and finally slipped inside.

Arthur sat at his desk, reading over the speech Merlin had written, likely already having memorized it, but unwilling to be unsure. Merlin closed the door and put the food on the table before Arthur even looked up. “Ah. Good to see you made it before lunch.” Merlin rolled his eyes as Arthur stood up. It helped distract him from how beautiful the man was. A little. “You do realize servants are supposed to wake up before the royalty?”

“If the royalty could write its own speeches, that wouldn't have been a problem, sire,” Merlin said, stepping away from the table to freshen the bed. He bent to straighten the sheets and watched the world spin.

“'The royalty' has servants to do that,” Arthur said. Merlin caught the man's smirk just before his vision went blurry. His stomach curdled.

Oh, hell.

* * *

“Arthur, get away from the food.”

Arthur snorted. “Merlin, this is my food. And fighting me for it wouldn't work out for you, considering your promise to never use your magic on me.”

The world spun hard to the right. Merlin clutched the bedpost to keep his balance. “I mean it, Arthur. Don't.”

Something seemed to finally clue in for the man. Merlin could barely focus, but he thought he saw Arthur stop and turn to him. “Merlin?”

His gut pinched, then churned. The discomfort turned to agony. As if a thousand needles were stabbing into his stomach. He collapsed to his knees. “Merlin!”

His magic bubbled and rolled. He felt it spark against his skin as Arthur approached. It flashed out, trying to attack whatever had hurt him. Merlin had to concentrate to keep it from hitting Arthur. He heard something topple to the floor. “Merlin, stop!” He bent over and clutched at his stomach. He might have even moaned. He couldn't tell. There seemed to be cotton in his ears. “I need you to listen to me, Merlin. Can you do that?”

He panted, his heart thumping erratically in his throat, but he managed to nod.

“All right. Good. What did you eat, Merlin? Can you tell me that?”

He shook his head. He thought that if he opened his mouth, he might just keep moaning. Or scream. Or break down into unmanly sobs. Still, he wanted to help. “Everything,” he whispered, and had to grit his teeth before he made any other sound.

“Everything? What do you mean, everything?” Arthur scowled. “The one day to be a glutton, Merlin!”

Merlin shook his head, but he couldn't focus enough to make some sort of reply. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten sick from something he'd eaten off of Arthur's plate. He just usually did so on his way up from the kitchens, and he would stop off at Gaius' and get rid of the food before he even reached Arthur's chambers. He would rather be considered lazy than for Arthur to know someone in his own castle was trying to kill him. He and Gaius had always handled the problem themselves before.

He wouldn't die. He just needed to get to Gaius. The old physician had seen his share of poisons long before Merlin had even shown up on his doorstep. And since then, he'd had more than enough chances to test his knowledge.

“I need Gaius,” Arthur said. Merlin heard him shouting then, but his world started blacking out, pinpointing on the stabbing agony in his middle. He could feel it happening, but had no time to warn Arthur. The best he could do was flail, finally pushing his king to the side just before he puked his guts all over the royal floor. He nearly collapsed in his own mess, but strong arms wrapped around him and held him tight. The pressure on his stomach made him throw up again. His magic shifted furiously, whirling around him in a cool wind. He felt it flashing inside him, searching and sparking and hissing like some devil.

The world flashed and dipped, and hot, burning arms curled around him and lifted him. The agony in his gut splintered at the movement. If he had the breath, he would have screamed. His magic, meanwhile, circled around his stomach and pulsed.

“Merlin, you have to control your magic now!”

He heard the words. He even thought he understood them. But he didn't know if he could listen to them.

“Merlin. Look at me. If you keep this up, you're going to blow your cover!”

Merlin didn't even know what he was talking about. He wasn't doing anything. The wind, however, felt cool on his hot cheeks, drying the sweat on his brow and neck. It made the heated spikes in his gut hurt a little less.

“Fine. We'll play dirty,” Arthur said, his voice barely legible. Then, “Merlin! You're hurting me!”

Merlin pushed down on his magic so hard he threw up again.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured, just as some small ruckus sounded from further away. “Gaius!”

“Sire.” Merlin jerked at the sound of Gaius' voice.

“I hurt him,” Merlin said. Or thought he said. Or tried to say. “I hurt him, Gaius...”

“Merlin!” He felt Arthur's hand on his cheek. He stomped his magic down hard, afraid of it slipping from his control with Arthur so close.

“Sire? You're injured?”

Merlin reached out blindly, in so much pain even that simple movement made the swords dig deeper. He gasped for breath. “What did I do?” he asked.

He thought he heard them whispering. Then again, it could have just been the sounds of people coming and going in the room. Whatever it was, it stopped when Arthur said, “no. Leave that. We'll find out what was in it after we take care of Merlin.”

He felt Gaius' hands on his face, opening his eyes. The light in the room glared so bright it nearly blinded him. His magic churned in his belly. Or maybe that was the poison. “Arthur?” he asked. He could hardly hear his own voice.

“He's fine. It's your turn now, Merlin, so hold still.” Merlin tried to do as told, but almost as soon as Gaius gave the order, the swords started twisting in his gut. His body jerked of its own accord.

“This is worse than usual,” Gaius said. Merlin wondered why he was speaking so loudly, until he realized that the sounds from far away scraped and grated on his ears. Whatever he lay on scratched like hay. But there would never be hay in Arthur's room. And it certainly wouldn't be so sharp it hurt. “Merlin? What were your first symptoms?”

Just thinking about moving his muscles made the itching stabs break out over his skin. Each breath felt so hot they were cold. “He seemed dizzy,” Arthur said. “And in pain. His magic went nuts, as you can see.” There must have been something visible, then. “And – wait. What do you mean, 'worse than usual?'” Gaius had that moment of pause that Merlin knew so well; it was the one where the man quickly sought out a lie. “Don't,” Arthur warned, and Gaius sighed.

“Merlin is your servant, sire. Whether you ever expose his secret or not, whether you ever appoint him the higher status you promise or not. He serves you, and does so happily.”

“I know that, Gaius. No matter what I wish, it's the choice he's made.” Arthur sounded pained by it, as always. He never understood how Merlin could  _want_  to work for him. How being Arthur's shadow made him glow.

The swords sunk deep and twisted once more, and their conversation was cut short as Merlin jerked and thrashed on the bed – it was Arthur's bed he was on; it just felt like lying on a rack of nails – so hard he almost bit his own tongue. His breath seized in his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get air. Despite himself, his magic burst forth once more, encasing him. He felt the warmth of it flash through his chest before he finally sucked in a deep breath of air. It burned so badly he choked and started coughing. If it weren't for how sensitive his senses were at the moment, he likely wouldn't have heard Arthur demand Gaius answer his question.

“Sire,” Gaius said. “Your servant does more than bring your food and clean your room. He checks your bed for weapons, your room for traps. And your food for poison.”

Silence. The silence was so loud it rang in Merlin's ears. Each wheezing breath punctured the air. He started shivering just before his body jumped and contorted all over again.

“Help him,” Arthur said. Merlin didn't recognize the tone. It was almost as if he was facing down an enemy on the battlefield. One he didn't expect to defeat. “Save him. Do whatever you have to. Use your magic. His magic. I don't care.”

A hesitation, during which Merlin imagined Gaius glancing around furtively, as if expecting people to jump out from the corners and start pointing at them. “Sire?”

“Do it,” Arthur ordered. “I want him hale and healthy when I beat him to the ground.”

Merlin collapsed bonelessly to the bed once more. He could hardly find his breath, let alone worry about Arthur's fury. Time after that dragged and slipped. He felt Gaius' hands on him, let himself be lifted by Arthur into drinking countless concoctions. His body kept jerking for a long time, until finally Gaius ordered Arthur to leave the room and told Merlin it was safe to use his magic again. He feared it, fought it. Gaius finally promised to leave for a short time, as well. And when Merlin let that power go, it roared.

Time slipped away entirely then. As did the world.

* * *

Everything hurt. Every single muscle felt stretched, every ligament torn. He felt exhausted, tired but not sleepy. His arms were lead. Just turning his head and opening his eyes felt like the most monumental of efforts.

Arthur's room. That wasn't too surprising; sometimes he just fell asleep cleaning or writing or something, and he would lie on the floor and wake up with a blanket over his shoulders. But this time, it really was odd. He was in Arthur's bed.

He vaguely recalled being placed there, or feeling the bed beneath him. It almost hurt against his skin, but that was likely because the very air felt almost harsh. Like the sensitivity he recalled hadn't dissipated yet. But it had felt more like sharp needles than the soft, almost downy texture it was now. And the pillow felt like a cloud. Completely different from his own. But at least the stabbing sensation in his stomach was gone, as were the dizziness and the tensing of muscles. All that was left was the sharpness of his senses and some heat, almost like a fever.

He searched around with his eyes as much as possible before gleaning that he was alone. The thought entered his mind to get up and search out Arthur. He was almost certain that the man hadn't been poisoned, but who was to say that whoever had tried hadn't come back? While he slept off the poison meant for Arthur?

Not to mention what damage he'd managed to inflict on the man himself.

It was a monumental effort, but he placed one palm against the bed and attempted to stand.

Something tightened around his stomach. For a long, horrible instant, he feared the poison was still inside him, that he'd managed to awaken during the eye of the storm and he would feel those horrible knives sinking into his guts and wrenching them. Instead he heard the soft shuffle of cloth, and then the smallest whisper of breath. He just clicked in to what it must mean right before Arthur spoke. “Merlin? You're awake?”

Why was Arthur in bed, too? Merlin pushed his weary body into movement, shoved up on one arm and looked Arthur over. His eyes hurt from the dim lighting in the room, so much that he almost didn't make out Arthur's bleary form beneath the blankets. Of course, Merlin's movement brought the man to full wakefulness, and he shot up, as well. “Merlin? Are you all right?”

Merlin squinted his eyes and forced his vision to focus. It was hard. His arm trembled under the strain of holding him up.

“We caught them,” Arthur said. “It was a serving girl and her boyfriend. Another grudge against my father.”

He looked fine. As much as Merlin could see, anyway. He tried to reach out for Arthur and found his arm buckling. Arthur managed to wrap both arms around him before Merlin collapsed solidly on his chest. He heard the whoosh of air that said he'd injured Arthur again. “Sorry,” Merlin said. His lips rubbed against Arthur's shirt. He smelled like he needed a bath. Merlin dared kiss that dirty flesh. “How bad?” he asked.

Arthur sighed. “Are you awake for real this time? I'm tired of telling you I'd been lying. I will never say it again; you've been insufferable about it. Won't even let yourself rest.” Despite his harsh words, Arthur's fingers were infinitely gentle as they carded through his hair.

Merlin thought about that for a minute. “It was a lie? I didn't hurt you?”

Arthur sighed. “No. I'm fine.”

Fine. Merlin pondered that for a while. “Oh. All right.”

And he let himself slip off into sleep.

“Wait! Merlin!” Arthur shook him slightly, and Merlin remembered he'd pinned the man beneath him.

He hummed and moved to get off. Arthur's grip just tightened. He frowned and forced his eyes open. “Wha'?”

“I am going to say this to you just once.” Arthur shook him again, just enough to get Merlin to open his eyes fully. Arthur sounded serious. He barely had time to think that the man might just be about to lecture him on his use of magic now that he was no longer on his death bed – or maybe kick him out of bed? – before Arthur spoke again. “I am not always the first to recognize what's happening in this castle. In fact, though I'm king, it somehow seems I'm oftentimes the last. And the duties of a servant often escape me.”

Merlin hummed, letting his eyes fall closed. “That can't be, sire,” he said, his voice about as drowsy as he was. “You?”

Arthur huffed. “All right, I'll hurry up.” Another tiny shake. Merlin just grumbled and snuggled under Arthur's chin. He was amazed, an instant later, when Arthur just sighed and wrapped his arms around him, holding him there. “Never again, Merlin. Someone else. I know no one is indispensable. It infuriates me that anyone need test my food or check my bed for weapons or potions or – or spells. But anyone else, Merlin. Just not you.” Arthur nuzzled his neck. Merlin mumbled happily, half certain this was a dream. “You are to hand that duty off to someone else. I need you. For other things. Do you understand, Merlin?” He hummed and breathed deeply of Arthur's scent. “I'm going to have to tell you this again later, aren't I?” Merlin snuffled softly. Arthur's next sigh breathed against the hair on the top of his head. “Of course I am.”

He felt Arthur's lips press into the hair through which he'd just breathed. Despite the weariness in him, Merlin decided it was a good dream, after all.

 


End file.
